Prom night was supposed to be forgettable, until I stepped out in a dress stitched from my dad's old uniform. My stepfamily laughed, but a knock at the door changed everything. That night, I discovered the truth about loyalty, loss, and the power of taking back my own story.
The first night I started stitching, my fingers were shaking so hard that I jabbed the needle clean through my thumb. I bit down on a yelp, wiped the blood away, and kept going, careful not to let a single drop stain the olive fabric laid out on my quilt.
I bit down on a yelp, wiped the blood away, and kept going.
